I Can Find It Myself
by Tamah
Summary: Sometimes, I wish I had known him a little better beforehand. Then maybe I would have known better than to be within fifty miles of that nut job. Alternate Universe, Real world. Sort of.


**Tamah**: Hi. Well, I got really bored one day, and since my other story is in writer's block land, I decided to publish this. I usually hate high school fics. I really do, with a passion. But this is my attempt to keep people in character. And I'm definitely going to keep Deidara in character. . . I hope. Hehe. Also, happy Cinco de Mayo.

* * *

Blech. It was a dreary morning to try and pry myself into wakefulness, but I knew if I didn't, my brother would with a glass of water. And that was really not the way to start a Monday morning, eh?

So I dragged myself out of bed and threw some jeans and a t-shirt on, along with my precious hoodie. I brushed my teeth and scrambled to make it to the bus stop. Thankfully, I made it on time.

Meh, school, what a joke. Well, I mean, it is a free education and all that jazz, but God, did they have to waste half of the damn year on shit we already learned?

I guess the only class I could bear was my chemistry class. That morning, we has a lab, one that involved chemicals. And guess who was the last sap without a partner? Me, of course, oh, and «him.» Before you even think that thought, it was a «him» of pure dread, not the "He's the popular guy, blah blah blah." Uh-uh, no way at all. This was the kid who had a, ahem, blazing, love affair with all things bright and burning on this earth, and an apparent lust for destruction and explosions that'd make North Korea jealous. So he was not the kind of guy you wanted to get paired up with in chemistry. Especially when you were dealing with fucking explosive chemicals. I didn't have anything against the guy, to be honest, but I kind of feared for my life.

He had an irritated look on his face when the teacher paired us together. "I was hoping to work on this alone, hn." He tended to make an undecipherable noise after a lot of his sentences. He was made fun of often for that, along with his extremely effeminate looks. He had long blond hair, which isn't so weird on guys these days, I guess, well, except for it being really well kept. That day he wore it up his normal style, a ponytail with bangs that covered one of his eyes. You'd think a freaking pyromaniac would keep his hair fully tied back, but I guess not. He also tended to wear really strange clothes, like a trench coat I suspected was some kind of fireproof, and he always-always wore gloves. Usually fingerless or something.

So why do I know so much about him? For the love of Pete, no, I'm not a freaking stalker. I just pay attention to things like that, I guess. And my own status as the "psycho bitch" pretty much set me in the outcast category. And when you're an outcast, you're sort of drawn to other outcasts, or some other bullshit like that. Not that I was drawn to him. Hell no. So, why am I the "psycho bitch?" Well, I used to be picked on by this one guy for the longest time. Then one time I just wasn't in the mood, so I waited until he was turned around to laugh with his little buddies and I beat the living shit out of him. He still has teeth-marks, I hear. And the coolest thing is, I didn't even get into trouble. I had filed enough complaints over the years so that he was the one who got into trouble. Awesome, right?

And that's why I'm an outcast. Oh well, there's always a fresh start in college. Right?

Well, anyway, I was paired with the pyromaniac named Deidara for a potentially life-threatening lab. Oh well.

I smiled lightly at him as I sat across from him. I figure everyone could use someone smiling at them, or else they'd end up crazy.

"What was that for, hn?" he asked.

"Just being friendly, that's all." I said quietly. My voice was naturally loud, but I had grown into the habit of keeping the volume down, it fit me better, I thought.

"So you're afraid of me, hn." he said with a smirk.

I shrugged. "Everyone needs a smile from someone." I read over the lab. Today we were making. . . Fireworks. Of course.

He looked at me weirdly, but didn't say anything. I tended to garner strange looks in a conversation. I would say really weird stuff or do odd things. But that's just how I am, you know?

"What do we need, hn?" he asked.

"Uh, we need some potassium nitrate. . . ." Oh god. I did not like that smile on his face, "-a-and uh. . . "

He rolled his eyes and snatched the paper out of my hand. He scanned through it and laughed. "Heh, you're worried about that? I'm gonna go spice it up some, hn. Watch my coat."

I nodded. Like I'm gonna let anyone take his dumb coat. But sweet Jesus, he was going to spice it up?! Shit. Man, today blows. . . .and sadly, that's probably going to be literally, too.

A few minutes later, he came back with a armful of stuff.

"Where did you get all that stuff?" I asked, "I'd think the teacher wouldn't let you near the damn chemicals."

He grinned at me. "Do you know how little they check lockers, hn?"

I shrugged. I didn't have a locker, so I really wouldn't know.

"Prepare to learn some real chemistry, Lanna."

Wait, how'd he know my name?

I was about to open my mouth to ask, when he interrupted me. "That is what the teacher called you, right, hn?"

Oh. Duh. I nodded. "Here's to hoping we make it out alive," I joked.

"Oh, I can't guarantee you'll make it out." his smile stayed that same sadistic grin, and I honestly couldn't tell if he was joking or not. Great.

He was mixing some metal powders up, and I just sat there, praying that the teacher would rescue me. Deidara looked up at me and rolled his eyes. "I'm not gonna just leave you here, hn."

I breathed a sigh of relief, and I said something that I guessed I'd regret not to much later. "Need any help?"

* * *

For the rest of that semester, we talked a few more times, but it usually wasn't anything other than a "Good morning." Neither of us got into trouble for the huge mess we made,

all the teacher muttered to himself was "Why did I let him do it?!"

The next semester my electives switched, and I was placed into pottery. I didn't mind working with art, I guessed, I mean, I'm kinda terrible at it but it makes me happy doing it. Even if no one can tell what I made except the teacher.

The pottery teacher was definitely a pothead, I could tell. Well, for one, she could tell what I attempted to make, and you would have to be pretty damn high to see that. Also, she would sit there and ramble on about random shit for about half an hour, then she'd eat chips the rest of the period. But she was an expert on art, and she taught really well. So I really liked that class, too.

A few weeks into the quarter, and I ran into Deidara, who else, in the pottery room.

"Um, sorry," I said quickly, getting out of his way.

"Yeah, nice to see you too, Lanna, hn."

"Huh?" I was confused. As usual.

"Never mind, hn." he said, going to talk with the teacher.

Huh, I didn't think Deidara was the pottery kind of person, I thought, but was I wrong. I seemed to notice him more in the room, since I started sitting at a far off table. He liked to do his work in the darker corner of the room, for who knows why. But, god, did he make some pretty epic stuff. I never saw his work come out from a bisque or glaze firing, and I always wondered why. So I plucked up the courage to ask him.

"Hey, Deidara?" I asked.

"Yeah, hn?"

I tilted my head. "Why do I never see your sculptures being fired? I mean, they're beautiful."

He smiled at me. "My art is a blast, isn't it, hn?"

I sort of got the hint. "Ah, I see." A blast, huh?

"One of these days I'll show you some real art, Lanna. I know you'd appreciate it, hn." he said, looking into my eyes for a moment before he went back to work.

"I'd like that. . ." I said lamely before I went back to my seat. I wondered what be meant by real art? And why would he think I'd appreciate it? We barely know each other. Well, um, on a face to face basis anyway. . . . Hey, shut up. I know a lot of stuff about a lot of people. I just sort of pick stuff up when I'm bored, it gives me the false impression that I have friends. And for a plus, it gives me plenty of stories to tell my folks so they think I'm you know, normal? Happy? Eh, whatever.

Ah, but you know the sad thing? I even had myself fooled into thinking I knew these people. Sometimes I think I have problems, but then I stop caring. So don't judge.

Besides, I'd catch his blue eyes staring me down. I'd smile at him, and he'd either look away quickly or smirk at me. Wait, was that some subconscious admission that I did stare at him?! Uh- never mind.

Well, after that conversation, we didn't really talk much, until one morning during Chemistry. I was bored, scribbling little stories and doodles in my notebook when he sat down in the empty chair next to me.

"Hey, Lanna, hn."

I looked up. "Yeah? What's up?"

"I think tomorrow would be a pretty great day to take a vacation, hn." I looked at him with a true-blue "What the fuck" stare.

"Uh, yeah, it would be, I guess…" I trailed off. He rolled his eyes at me and went back to his seat. I went back to my work and I heard them whispering. Dumbasses. Do they think I'm deaf?

"Do you think they're going out?" one girl whispered, "Eew, just imagine them kissing."

I turned my head and regarded the speaker with my evilest glare, and she turned pale, then twenty shades of red. I think it was more of my reputation, anyway. I tried glaring at myself in the mirror and I laughed my ass off.

Needless to say, they shut up. But I couldn't finish my work, I was pondering what in the hell he'd meant by that in the first place, you know? That was something completely random, unless he was just trying to screw with me. That just seems like something he'd do, I guess.

But I did beg and plead with my mom to have the day off. I figured what the hell, right?


End file.
